Or we are told it’s the fuel of life and that we should heed its every call; otherwise, we are living dry and colorless lives and stifling our creative potential. While this is more in alignment with my beliefs, taken to the extreme, it can breed attitudes of narcissism and entitlement and make us feel like victims of circumstance when we perceive that we aren’t getting what we are wanting.

So when you feel your desire call, slow down. Listen. Really tune in to what she is saying. It may be a little confronting, especially since desire often goes against the cultural grain.

It’s less about totally expressing your desire and more about simply acknowledging and approving of what you hear. From the center of the sweet spot, desire becomes a conscious choice. And you get to decide how much fun you are going to have on the ride, regardless of whether or not the desire is fulfilled.

Oftentimes, it’s just as delicious to sit with desire—to hang out in the wanting. How hot and sweet is it to be sitting so close to your lover, swelling with desire, and only feeling the heat from his skin shimmer across your body?

The following poem is featured in her upcoming book, “From 6 to 9 and Beyond,” which uses stories, poetry and visionary photography by Sequoia Emmanuelle to capture the erotic awakening of six feminine archetypes. She plans on donating 10% of the book profits to All We Want Is Love, an organization that ends sex trafficking. Learn more about the project here.Unexpressed Desire

My bare right thigh
Rests on your pajama-ed leg.
My right hand slipped
Under your left
As my palm inhales
The heat from your ribs.

You hover on the edge
Of a waking snooze.
A soft snore rises
From your throat.
A moment frozen
With desire.

This could go in any direction.

On the one hand,
I hate to disturb your sweet surrender,
Like a nostalgic portrait
Studied by professors
And glanced over by disinterested tourists
As they rush through the gallery.

On the other hand,
I want nothing more than to feel
Your lips brushing the side of my neck.
Your entire fist slowly twisting inside me.
Your coarse fingers mashing my left breast,
Squeezing out my nipple and tugging with your teeth.

Another soft snore.
A resigned sigh.
I pull my hand out from your shirt
In one, cottony stroke.
Unraveling from you,
I tiptoe to the door

Turning in time
To see your lazy smile
And half-opened eyes.
“I’ll let you get some rest,”
I whisper, as the door firmly latches
Behind my back.

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Who is Candice?

At age 20, I had just graduated one year ahead of schedule with a BFA (with honors) from NYU and was ready to live my fairy-tale, Broadway-star life. Now at age 34, I've been married, divorced, married again, developed an eating disorder, co-founded a theatre company, left said theatre company, been homeless, fell into debt, co-wrote a play for the 2007 NYC Fringe Festival, been to Burning Man (six times!), starred in a film, traveled through Europe, Israel and Haiti, moved from NYC to the west coast and discovered a life-changing meditation practice based on stroking pussy that I now teach to others.

Through The Orgasmic Life, I share the experiences of my sexual and spiritual unfolding with you, along with fiction and poetry inspired by exploring the dark night of the soul. I am deeply grateful for everyone who reads this blog and encourage you all to leave me a message, ask questions or comment on what you find here.

Much love and gratitude to the lessons from Saturn, the power of prayer and my Beloved husband.